THE TERMS OF SURVIVAL

The heavy oak door didn't open again for the rest of the night.

I sat on the edge of the mattress, my wrists burning under the tight grip of Lorenzo’s silk tie. The metallic scent of Dr. Evans’s blood still lingered in the air, a horrifying reminder of the countdown hanging over my head. Six hours until dawn. Six hours until Lorenzo carried out his threat to break the only person who had ever looked out for me.

When the first morning light finally filtered through the bulletproof glass, the heavy deadbolt clicked open.

I braced myself, expecting the scarred giant or a squad of guards to drag me to a execution warehouse. Instead, Lorenzo walked in alone.

He had changed into a fresh white shirt, completely devoid of bloodstains, and the stark white bandage across his nose made his icy glare look even more menacing. He carried a heavy silver tray, which he set down on the pristine wooden nightstand with a quiet click.

On the tray sat a single glass of water and a steaming bowl of cheap, instant chicken ramen.

I stared from the noodles up to his face, utterly bewildered. "What is this? My last meal?"

"It’s breakfast," Lorenzo said, his smooth baritone cutting through the quiet room. He stepped closer, reached behind my back, and untied his silk jacket tie with a swift, practiced jerk of his hand.

I immediately pulled my arms forward, rubbing my raw, throbbing wrists. The blood was finally rushing back into my fingers, stinging like a thousand tiny needles. "Where is Dr. Evans? You said at dawn—"

"The doctor has been moved to a secure medical wing on the lower levels of this estate," Lorenzo interrupted flatly, folding his tie and slipping it into his pocket. "My men patched him up. He is alive. For now."

Relief washed over me so fast my vision went blurry, but I forced myself to stay sharp. "Why? I thought you were going to break him."

"Because I spent the last six hours verifying your story, Alina," Lorenzo murmured, leaning against the bedpost and looking down at me like an intricate puzzle. "My men searched your apartment. There is no safety deposit key. You lied to buy him time."

I swallowed hard, my throat dry. "I told you I don't know anything." [1]

"I know," Lorenzo said, his eyes narrowing slightly. "The doctor confirmed it before he passed out from the pain. He swore you were entirely innocent. That your father kept you completely in the dark."

"Then let me go!" I demanded, finding my footing and standing up to face him, ignoring how badly my knees were shaking. "If I'm useless to you, let me go back to my life!"

"You aren't useless. You are Arthur Moretti's blood," Lorenzo hissed, stepping directly into my personal space until I was forced to tilt my chin back to meet his gaze. "He abandoned you, but a man like that doesn't let his only investment go to waste. You are the perfect bait. Until he surfaces to claim what he left behind, you stay here."

"As a prisoner?"

"As my guest," Lorenzo corrected, a dark, mocking shadow of a smile playing on his lips. "You will have free run of the residential sectors of this estate. You will be fed. You will be clothed. But if you touch a window, look at a security panel, or attempt to cross the perimeter gates, my guards have orders to put a bullet through Dr. Evans's head."

He was using the doctor as a human leash. He knew I wouldn't risk the old man's life.

My fear suddenly burned away, replaced by a hot, boiling wave of my cafeteria-honed stubbornness. If I was going to be stuck in this golden cage, I wasn't going to make it easy for him. I wasn't going to break.

I looked down at the steaming bowl of instant noodles on the tray, then looked him dead in the eye.

"Chicken flavor?" I scoffed, crossing my arms defiantly. "If you're going to keep me hostage in a multi-million dollar mansion, the least you could do is get the spicy beef flavor. This brand tastes like cardboard."

Lorenzo blinked. For a fraction of a second, the dangerous, unhinged mafia heir looked completely thrown off balance. He stared at me, evaluating my total lack of submission after everything that had happened.

"Eat your food, Alina," Lorenzo murmured, his voice dropping back into a cold, guarded register as he turned toward the door. "Don't mistake my patience for mercy."

"Tell your chef I want hot sauce next time, De Luca!" I called out to his retreating back.

The heavy door closed, and the lock clicked into place. I was still trapped in the devil's lair, but as I sat down to eat the noodles, I knew one thing for certain: I wasn't the little mouse he thought I was. And I was going to make his life absolute hell.